


An Intemperate Interloper

by PuellaMidori



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dissociation, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poisoning, Trauma, Vortex Manipulator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuellaMidori/pseuds/PuellaMidori
Summary: in·tem·per·ate: adj. showing lack of moderation or due restraint, as in action or speech; unrestrained; unbridled.I've got a beginning and an ending solidified in my mind, but less so of a middle so for now we'll go with a vague summary whereby Missy has taken to showing up at inopportune times and places in Clara's life and Clara is just forced to Deal With It. Summary and tags should be updated along with the fic.
Relationships: Missy/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

The highest cupboards were where the kitchen’s most rarely-used inhabitants always ended up exiled. The waffle maker, impulsively bought on clearance and used _maybe_ a handful of times since. The so-called “good” dishes all proper adults were supposed keep on hand for some reason. A few recipe books. Unfortunately, today Clara found herself needing those books. So of course she did what any sensible person does when faced with the prospect of having to dig around in a cabinet up higher than their own head, and put her knee up on the kitchen counter. She reached toward the cabinet to balance herself and pulled her other leg up so she could stand, opening the cabinet as she did so in a relatively graceless but functional maneuver. ‘What does grace matter when you live alone, anyway?’ she thought to herself as her eyes searched the pile for the appropriate book. And then she heard the footsteps. Her heart felt like it stopped as she twisted to face the direction of the sound. She was debating whether to call out, or climb down, or maybe both, when the culprit stepped into view. Both feet planted on the kitchen counter, back twisted out awkwardly, Clara _froze_ at the sight of Missy walking casually through _her_ flat.

“Oh dear,” Missy laughed as she entered the kitchen, taking in the spectacle in front of her. “Bad time?”

Clara blinked once, twice, and twisted herself even further to get a better look at the intruder. This was enough to cause her to lose her footing, landing right on the kitchen floor. ‘Oh, this is _perfect_ ,’ she thought, skipping right over, for the moment, such questions as ‘ _why_ is Missy in my home?’ and ‘ _how_ did she get in here?’, and going straight for ‘what an embarrassing display I’m making!’

Missy closed what distance remained between them and offered Clara her hand. Clara knocked it away, pushing herself up and brushing herself off, and fixed the taller woman with her most defiant glare. It was time to get back to those questions she’d missed before. “What are you doing in _my_ flat?” she spat. “Tell me how you got in here so I can make sure it _never_ happens again, whatever it takes.”

“You know me, poppet. Had some free time, thought I’d stop in on a friend, see what was new.” She’d already stepped away from where Clara stood and was instead snooping around the place as she spoke. “Oh, now that’s cute!” She interrupted herself to pick up some knick-knack she found, then promptly tossed it vaguely in Clara’s direction, picking up another one to examine.

“That’s quite enough,” Clara said firmly, as she struggled to keep her own decorations from hitting the floor. “We’re not _friends_. We’ll never be friends, you tried to _kill me_. Now get out!”

“What kind of reception is that, Clara, dear? I try to kill all my friends. Don’t take it so personally. Besides, it obviously didn’t _work_.”

There was already a part of Clara’s brain whirring in the background, telling her that Missy had a point, probably. She didn’t give that part any consideration. She took a deep breath and sized up the current situation instead. Missy hadn’t broken into her flat with the express intention of killing her, that much was clear. First of all, she would have already been dead. Second of all, she did have to admit, that wouldn’t be any fun, and _that_ wouldn’t have been Missy’s style. Did that mean Clara _wasn't_ in immediate danger then? Not necessarily, but steps had to be taken in one direction or another, so Clara steeled herself and stepped towards the tornado blowing through her living room decor. “You _are_ going to leave my flat, and you are _not_ going to be coming back.” She spoke without a hint of the fear she was feeling, or at least she convinced herself that she did. “You’re not my friend. You’re not welcome here. Find some other cure for your boredom.” She was Clara Oswald, she told herself, and Time Lords would cower before her. Maybe. She hoped. Probably not, but maybe they’d get bored? What was she _doing_?

So unexpected was Clara’s declaration that Missy actually replaced the trinket she’d been handling in its place rather than tossing it over her shoulder. She turned to give the girl her full attention. She looked her up, down, up again. Examined her face, her posture, looking for the cracks in the armour. They were well hidden, certainly. What gave her away was the racing heart, but Missy couldn’t fault her for that one. She couldn’t have controlled it even if she wanted to, and she probably had no idea Missy would be able to notice it from that distance. “My, my, my,” she giggled. “Looks like the puppy’s growing teeth! What _ever_ am I going to do?” Missy gasped mockingly, holding the face for effect before rearranging herself into the perfect picture of seriousness. “Ah, well, suppose I’ll have to see myself out. Now let’s see, I came from over _there_ ,” she said while gesturing, “which means the door must be-” she did a little twirl, now facing the opposite direction from where she had pointed, “-this way! Ta for now! Until next time, take care, and all those tawdry pleasantries, et cetera.” She made her way to the front door, unlocked it, and let herself out. “And do give the Doctor my best, won’t you?” she added, before closing the door behind her.

Clara gave it a minute or so, holding her breath, waiting to see if the door was going to open again. When she could bear it no longer she let it rush out, all at once, sinking down to the floor. Before she realized what was happening she felt her body shudder, heard the sobs escape from her mouth, but it barely seemed to be her that was doing it. She wasn’t sure how much time she spent in that position, but eventually she felt herself get up off the floor. She felt her legs bring her through the flat to the front door, felt her hand reach out to lock it, then felt the legs working again, until they weren’t and she was sat somewhere. Her mind was fuzzy, full of racing thoughts. No, not quite thoughts. More like blurry pictures. Missy lay at the centre of most of it, but it wasn’t all her. It was Danny. It was the Daleks. It was Oswin. It was all jumbled together, floating from one thing to another with no regard for the present. It wasn’t that she _never_ thought of these things. It’s just that for most of them, she was usually busy trying not to die when she was reminded of them. Now there was no threat to her life, no _situation_ to capture her attention, only the immediate aftermath of a bright and burning reminder of some of the worst memories she had (along with some she didn't, not _really_ ), waltzing around in her home.

Underlying all that, below the surface, was the knowledge that it might _never_ stop. Sure, she was constantly putting her life at risk, acquiring new traumatic experiences, but it wasn’t quite that. It was the knowledge that Missy could get to her. What was stopping her, if the fancy took her? Nothing at all, as she’d just demonstrated. Sure, _this_ time nothing had happened. But that possibility, the idea that Missy could just show up where she wanted, when she wanted, do what she wanted. A seed had been planted in Clara’s head, a seed that told her her life was at the whims of a mad woman, and there was really nothing she could do about it. When Clara was again able to form coherent thoughts, she wondered if that had been Missy’s point all along. She was easy to chase away today, because all she’d wanted was to plant that seed of helpless, but next time, if there _was_ a next time? That was anyone’s guess.

It wasn’t until Clara was getting ready for bed that night that she remembered what she had been doing before Missy’s intrusion. She groaned loudly as she thought of the school potluck tomorrow. She’d been looking for a recipe to bring! She briefly considered her options, but resigned herself to having to pick something up from the store on the way in. ‘How is it possible,’ she thought to herself, frustrated and exhausted, ‘that Missy is already ruining my _tomorrow_ , and it hasn’t even come yet?”


	2. Chapter 2

The  day after Missy’s “visit” found Clara subjected to some good-natured ribbing  over her contribution to the table,  but no more complicated life derailments  than that . If any of her colleagues noticed that she was a bit more on edge than usual, none of them were impolite enough to mention it.  So the day passed, and other days followed it, and  Missy didn’t feel like such an immediate threat to Clara any more. In fact, by the time she next saw the Doctor she had already managed  to  box Missy up and exile her into a crowded corner of her brain, where she stuck all her traumas when they weren’t currently in use.  The first day or so after seeing Missy, Clara had tried to decide how she was going to bring it up to the Doctor when she saw him, but that question had turned from “how” to “if”, and then finally, the “if” had been answered in the negative. What would telling him accomplish? She wasn’t sure how exactly he’d react to the news, but she knew however those chips fell that he’d want to find her. Confront her.  Even her  _students_ would be able figure out somebody like Missy is only found on her own terms. So what would be the point? What she really needed was a distraction, and she wasn’t about to ruin that by opening her mouth. She was a big girl, she could handle her own problems without running to the Doctor every time she got a little scared.  Never mind that bit of her brain telling her that “distractions” were just the opposite of “handling” one’s problems. So she worked through her days, pushed things around in her head until they seemed sensible, waited for the familiar sound of the Doctor appearing to whisk her away.  In other words, her life settled back to a workable routine. 

Her abnormal life was at the height of its typical version of "normality" when one of her students asked her at the beginning of class, “Miss, have you met the new substitute yet?  I think she’s weird! ”

Clara sighed. Her lesson hadn’t even  _started_ and it was already being interrupted? So it was one of  _those_ days. May as well go at it head on, then. She shook her head, answering, “No, I haven’t met her  yet .” She  _had_ heard that one of the other teachers had taken a sudden leave of absence, though it wasn’t one she was particularly close with and she didn’t know the specifics. “ Why do you ask? What’s so weird about her?”  No harm in indulging them just a  _little_ before moving forward with the lesson. Besides, maybe she’d hear something interesting. 

“She acts like she has _opinions_ on _history_! You _can’t_ have opinions on _history!_ Even if you _do_ teach it.”

Oh,  that was almost disappointing. What an utterly  _teenaged_ thing to be concerned about, Clara almost laughed. “Soon you’re going to learn that adults have opinions about all  _kinds_ of weird things. Now, for today’s lesson...”

C oal Hill,  of course, was not an _especially_ large school, so it didn’t take long for Clara to be introduced to the history substitute. Ordinarily, this would be an utterly unremarkable event, but Clara’s life hadn’t followed the ordinary rules since  _well_ before she began teaching here.  No, unremarkable was out the window the minute she entered the staff room and heard her name called out from the far side of the room, where most of the teachers seemed to be gathered together.  Even adult s are susceptible to the excitement of a new personality in the room, apparently.  “Clara,” she heard, “get over here and meet the new recruit!” 

She saw  a colleague wave her over, saw a figure, whose back was currently facing her, detach from the throng,  heard the tapping of high heels on tile. The figure turned to face her, and then time froze.  Not literally, although for all she knew the possibility wasn’t off the table altogether. She forced down her initial instinct to take a step back. Whatever was happening here, she was determined to assert her control over the situation. She told herself there was no  _immediate_ threat in the room, and she wasn’t about to show her colleagues anything out of the ordinary. In the eternity it took Missy to cross the room she carefully arranged an appropriately friendly face to match that of the other woman’s.  She took the hand offered to her, gripping it just a  _little_ too tightly, shaking it a little too firmly. “Melissa McDonnell.” Missy offered by way of an introduction, “ H istory.” 

She didn’t look out of place in the school staff room, having exchanged her typical over-the-top  ensemble  for a rather nondescript, professional style, complete with glasses.  It didn’t suit her. Even blending in with the crowd like she was here, Missy stood more confidently than the rest, fixed the room (or maybe just Clara) with a more intense gaze then the rest. Not to say it was a  _bad_ look on the woman, Clara just knew she could do, well,  _more._ She blinked, realizing she was still in the entrance to the staff room, and that she was staring. She shook her head and smiled. “Clara Oswald. English.  I believe o ne of my students mentioned you this morning.” ‘ Let the conversation go naturally,’ she told herself, ‘maybe nobody else noticed.’ Nobody  _else_ , because she knew without a doubt Missy herself had noticed. She was determined though, not to let Missy get to her again. Not here, not on  _her_ turf. 

“Really now? And what kind of reviews am I getting? Hopefully nothing too brutal!” Missy laughed, playing to the room. “They _can_ be rough at this age, especially on substitutes. They think they’ve found a weakness there, and sometimes they’re even right.”

‘But you,’ Clara finished Missy’s statement internally, ‘are anything but weak, right?’ Externally, Clara laughed along, replying flippantly, “Nothing _too_ brutal _._ Just said you were weird. Almost a _glowing_ review.” Clara spat a little venom into the word, hopefully just enough to get Missy’s attention without raising any other alarms in the room. 

As she said it, she imagined Missy herself glowing.  She’d already seen the Doctor do it.  _Regeneration_ . What might Missy have been like, before?  She pushed that thought away as she vaguely heard Missy say something in reply without managing to catch the words. Thankfully, she was saved from having to come up with a reply by the ringing of the bell. She and Missy flowed out of the room with the rest of the teachers.  One of the men gave Clara a nudge. “ Didn’t think she’d be your type,” he whispered with a wink as he passed her. Clara groaned. The staring _had_ been noticed.

T he collective whole all arriv ed a minute or two late to their own classes  that period ,  and b y the end of the day  students and teachers alike were all talking about Missy. Wherever she went, the Time Lady certainly did know how to make an impression.  Clara had spent the whole day deciding what to do about her, unable to focus on any of her later classes. What did Missy  _want_ ? That was the first question to answer. But the last thing Clara could do was  _ask_ her.  So, forget about that one for a second. Next question, how to get rid of her. Yeah, that one was probably going to be just as difficult, wasn’t it? The only conclusion she managed to come to, after half a day of thinking it over, was that this time she was going to have to loop in the Doctor. This wasn’t just some casual home invasion, this time Missy had gone public. Surely that wasn’t going to end well.  So as soon as her last class was over, Clara headed outside to call him. Once. Twice. A third one for good measure. All straight to voicemail, for all the good leaving one would actually do her. Did he even know how to check them? No, scratch that. Did the TARDIS even  _have_ a functional voicemail system? Clara wouldn’t have put it past her to simply not attach the function.  She hung up a third time without leaving a message and shoved her phone into her bag in frustration. Time to take a different approach. 

She found Missy in her otherwise-empty borrowed classroom, sitting on top of her desk and apparently reading from a book with a blank cover. She put it down as soon as Clara entered the room, not bothering to mark the page. ‘Was she even reading anything,’ Clara wondered, ‘or was she just waiting for me to show up?’  The whole  _situation_ felt like some kind of trap for her, but she couldn’t figure out the angle. So here she was, showing up to antagonize the mastermind. 

She closed the door behind her and approached the desk directly. She looked up into Missy’s hard, pale eyes. For a moment the two of them stayed like that, holding each others’ gaze, until Clara began her questioning. “Why are you here?” she started with, knowing full well she wouldn’t be getting a straight answer but almost feeling like she was expected to ask it anyway.

“To see you, of course.” Missy winked.

Clara plowed on, more or less ignoring her. “What are you planning?”

“Right now? Tomorrow’s lesson.”

“That’s another thing! Why _history_? I didn’t think you were interested in the affairs of us _humans_.” Clara drew out the word, exaggerating it until it sounded like some kind of insult.

“I’m not. This is just where the opening was. What, you think I somehow orchestrated your colleague’s absence?” She had done exactly that, in fact. “I merely took advantage of the situation. Besides, interest or no, you can’t help picking up a few things over the years. Sometimes you even end up being a part of it. You know, I was Prime Minister once! How the mighty fall...”

Clara shook her head. “You think I’m about to believe _that_?” Saying so, she did make a mental note to ask the Doctor about it. She sighed, so far getting nowhere. “How old _are_ you anyway? The Doctor-”

“Clara Oswald, how _dare_ you! Asking a lady her age like that.” Missy fixed her with a stern, withering look. “I’m not a day over 30, and don’t let anyone tell you different.” She pushed herself off the desk to the floor and did a little twirl, presumably with the express purpose of annoying Clara.

Clara, for her part, just glared at the _older_ woman. She crossed her arms like she might’ve when dealing with a misbehaving child. “I don’t suppose you’ll just leave if I ask you nicely, then?”

“Oh, you’d have to be _very_ nice for that to work. I don’t think you have it in you.” Missy put on her best-looking innocent smile. “I can’t just leave whenever I want, you know. I have _responsibilities_ now.”

Clara scoffed openly at the idea of “Missy” and “responsibilities” being put together in a sentence. “ _You_ don’t have responsibilities!” She closed what little distance remained between the two of them, getting right into Missy’s face. _“You_ are not a teacher! You’re not _decent!_ Trusting you with _children_ would be insane! Whatever you’re doing here, it’s bad news, and I’m going to make sure you don’t go through with _any_ of it! Forget the Doctor, this school is under _my_ protection and you’ll do well not to forget it.”

Missy stood stone-faced throughout Clara’s tirade, finally smirking when she was finishing up. “Feel better after getting that out of your system, pet?” When Clara didn’t respond, she continued cheerily, “I already told you what I’m doing here, remember? Or can your tiny brain not retain an entire conversation with me? I’m. Here. To see. _You_.” She punctuated her statement with a flourish, giving Clara’s nose a poke to emphasize the “you”.

The sudden hand in her face caused Clara to blink, and she found herself at a loss for words. Left without a way to salvage the interaction, Clara just turned and walked back out of the classroom, not saying another word. That’s one point to Missy, she supposed. She tried the Doctor’s number again on her way out of the building, not really expecting much. When he still didn’t answer she sighed out loud, wondering how long she was supposed to deal with this. She resigned herself to at least another day of, and she shuddered as she thought this, having to _work with Missy_. All the while pretending to never have met the woman before.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Tuesday morning, and Missy’s second day as a teacher at Coal Hill. Clara hadn’t bothered hoping that she would disappear as suddenly as she had appeared, so at least she wasn’t disappointed when she saw her in the hallway before classes started. She tried to look like she was in a hurry, speed-walking along the floor and hoping to avoid engagement. She should have known better.

“Clara!” she heard the familiar voice calling. She reluctantly lifted her head in the direction of the voice and saw Missy _waving_ at her, like they were old chums or something. She lifted her hand in a half-hearted wave back, intending to continue walking ahead, but Missy came towards her and blocked her progress. “Good morning!” she continued, voice infused with more cheer than was acceptable to most people at such an hour. “All ready to seize the day and shape young minds?”

“Er, right, yeah,” Clara muttered. “Good morning...” She had meant to return the greeting with a little more false cheer thrown in but ended up trailing off awkwardly when she realized she had already forgotten the name Missy was using here.

“Oh, it’s Melissa, dear,” Missy supplied, smiling. “But all my friends call me Missy,” she added with a wink, “and I’m _sure_ we’ll become good friends while I’m here.”

Clara suppressed a shudder and instead smiled back at her new workplace _adversary_. “Of course, Melissa! I’m so sorry! I’m lucky if I even remember to bring my grading home, some days.” She laughed, a little too loudly. “Oh, but I think I’ll stick with Melissa. Just feels weird to go straight to nicknames when I’ve only known you a day. You might not even be around long enough for us to get close.” Missy made a face at Clara, as if she’d just said something mildly offensive. “I’m sure you get. It’s nothing _personal_ after all. Have a great day!” With that, Clara made an utterly graceless exit as she stepped around Missy’s body and resumed her travel down the hallway. Could any of that have _poss_ _ibly_ been more awkward? She was going to have to come up with a new strategy for dealing with Missy, before her coworkers all became convinced she simply couldn’t talk to _anyone_. (It’s not like they didn’t already have plenty of examples of odd and awkward behaviour from her after all.)

The rest of the day, and the rest of the week for that matter, passed more or less as follows: Clara alternated between avoiding Missy, and keeping much too close of an eye on her. The rumours began to fly, through both the faculty and the students, about what kind of relationship exactly was growing between the two women. The Doctor never showed up when he was expected to, and continued not to answer his phone.

All in all, Clara was starting to feel a bit of a _déjà vu_ coming on. But more than that, she was _worried_. So far, Missy hadn’t seemed to be doing anything particularly nefarious, beyond just getting on Clara’s nerves a lot. But Clara couldn’t accept that she was just invading her life for _no reason_ , there had to be some kind of bigger plan that she had going on. The Doctor missing his usual appointment was just more evidence to her that something nefarious _had_ to be going on, but realistically, it wouldn’t be the first one he’d missed. She had actually thought briefly of asking Missy about him, whether she knew where he was and what he was doing. If _briefly_ could be said to mean _every time she saw her_ since he failed to show up. She knew it wouldn’t go anywhere if she did, and she was loathe to try having a serious conversation with Missy about it at her _work_ of all places. But it was on the tip of her tongue every time she passed her in the hallway, every time she cornered her in her classroom. 

That wasn’t the only thing that had Clara worried though. It was hard to avoid hearing what people were talking about all around her. It was like Danny all over again, only this time... this time the rumours were obviously  _complete_ nonsense, right? Clara couldn’t think of a  _single_ reason why they might be justified. Maybe she spent more time than was necessary in Missy’s presence, but that was only because she wanted to keep her from doing harm to the students, right? Maybe she found herself staring occasionally, or losing her words when she was talking to her, but that was only because of the sheer  _absurdity_ of having Missy around as a Coal Hill teacher, right? Any blushing, any awkwardness, any weird behaviour on Clara's part was just a natural consequence of having to deal with the force of nature that was the Mistress. No, in Clara’s mind there was no reason for these types of rumours to gain traction, but of course Clara had information that the rest of the school was not privy to, and she had  _personal_ reasons for believing the rumours were nothing more but nonsense. All in all though, Clara did her best to ignore the talk around her. 

Missy, on the other hand, revelled in the attention. She made it a point to mention to Clara each time she saw her whenever she heard a new rumour about their exact relationship status. What purpose could she have, Clara wondered, other than wanting to see her squirm? 

But it was actually on the  _weekend_ when everything really started coming to a head. Sunday morning, to be specific. Almost a week since Missy had arrived at Clara’s school found Missy once again arriving in Clara’s flat. This time, Clara woke up late on Sunday morning and stumbled into the living room in her pyjamas, only to find an entirely uninvited guest s prawled out on her couch.  Her  _first_ reaction was to turn around, rub her eyes, and turn back, only to find that Missy remained sitting exactly where she had left her. She still wasn’t wearing the type of clothes that Clara was used to seeing her in, but she had ceased her attempts to _blend_ with the other teachers. Her hair was perfectly placed in an elaborate style, and her makeup looked like she had spent hours trying to get the _exact_ right vibe. Regardless of Missy’s more put-together appearance though, Clara’s  _se_ _cond_ reaction was to turn beet-red,  to  reali ze  that she was still in her pyjamas and her  that  hair was a mess, and to turn around right back to the bedroom she had just emerged from.  _Regardless_ of Missy’s appearance, she told herself, and certainly not  _because_ of it. 

A number of minutes later, she returned to the living room. This time her hair was brushed,  and  her body clothed in a respectable shirt-and-pant combination. She peeked cautiously in before she entered, but Missy was sitting exactly where she had left her. 

“Well, it certainly took you long enough to get up,” Missy teased her once she returned into her line of sight. “You know, I never _can_ remember how much sleep you lot need. I was wondering if I was going to be waiting here all _day_. I’m _ever_ so glad you’re here now though, who _knows_ what I might have gotten up to if I had waited even a _minute_ longer.”

“You shouldn’t be here at _all_ ,” Clara retorted, knowing full well that Missy already knew that. She didn’t bother asking her how she had gotten in. Why waste the time? Instead, she re-directed herself to the kitchen where she was planning on serving herself breakfast and ignoring the Time Lady entirely. Missy, on the other hand, had other plans.

“Oh good,” she called out when Clara entered the kitchen. “Are you making tea?”

Clara took a minute or two to herself to fume, before realizing that she had been presented with an opportunity. “Of course!” she eventually called back out to Missy. “How else would I treat such a cherished guest as yourself.” She wondered if she was overdoing it on the sarcasm, but then decided that she didn’t care. 

When she returned from the kitchen she decided that the table would serve her better than the couch, and set out two cups of tea across from each other. At least, if nothing else, there would be a  _table_ between herself and Missy. She didn’t truly think it would stop Missy if she got it into her head to misbehave, but it was, ever so slightly, reassuring to her. 

The two women sat in silence for a minute or two, until Missy finally spoke. “I’m surprised at you, Clara Oswald! Now, I recognize you might not be that interested in my own life, but I would have thought you’d take this last week as an opportunity to learn as much as possible about that Doctor of yours. I’m the  _best_ source, of course, and I know things about him that even  _he_ isn’t aware of. So come on now, I know you’re curious.”

Clara refused to take the bait at first, but when she got to the point where the alternative was simply staring at Missy without saying anything, she figured there was one obviously superior choice to be had there. “Alright,  _fine_ ,” she offered, sighing dramatically. “If you know him so well, tell me: the Doctor’s most  _embarrassing_ moment.” 

Missy couldn’t help but laugh at the request. “Oh, I  _do_ like you! Of course, we both already knew that.”  Missy leaned across the table, getting right into Clara’s face for a moment. “Now, let me think...  _most_ embarrassing.... no, I can’t tell you that one. Not that one either. Okay, well, how about this one? He had just lost a friend of his, or so he’d claim, when he met this wannabe doctor, you know, a  _medical_ one.  _Completely_ on the rebound, but I don’t think he ever even realized it. She went around with him for awhile, had some adventures, probably  _saved the world_ or some nonsense at least once. And then she said to him, “you know what? No thank you!” Utterly  _rejected_ , he was. Just went right back to her life.” Missy grinned as she described what had happened, as though there couldn’t have been a better outcome. “I don’t get a chance to meet most of his pets, but I did meet _her_ . Wasn’t in this body, of course, but you can’t  win ‘em all . Takes something special to say  _no_ to him. Normally he just charms  them all  good. I’m sure  _you_ would know.”

Clara  elected to ignore the last part of Missy’s statement, going after something  a bit meatier instead. “You know, I’ve got some experience on the subject, dealing with the students and all, and if I didn’t know better... I’d say it sounded like you were  _jealous_ of her. Aren’t you supposed to be his  _oldest, dearest friend,_ or whatever it is you’re claiming? Why would you be jealous of some petty  _human_ ?” Clara looked Missy directly in the eyes as she said this, not sure what  _exactly_ what she was hoping accomplish,  just  try ing to rile her up in some way. It felt like Missy always had the upper hand, no matter what they ended up discussing. 

Unfortunately for Clara, Missy ignored her baiting. “You know, at first you were barely more than a rebound yourself. Before _I_ helped things along, that is.”

“Oh, after the redhead, right? The one with the legs?” Missy quirked her head to the side, caught off guard for once. “The TARDIS showed me,” Clara offered, smirking at her own little victory.

“The redhead, yes. And her husband, I believe.”

“Husband?” Clara choked out, bewildered again.

Now Missy was the one grinning again, back in control of the conversation after all. “That _is_ what I said, yes. Oh, and he’s married to their daughter. I guess it’s complicated, at least by your standards.”

Clara blinked, stunned. Coming back to herself, she forced out a laugh. “Very funny, Missy. Truly hilarious.”

“It’s true! Go on, ask him, whenever he finally shows up to get me out of your hair. Amy. Rory. Melody. What’s she go by now? River, wasn’t it? Big shot time travelling professor, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her. Come to think of it, good ol’ Mels tried to kill him a time or two in her wayward youth. I _told_ you, he goes for that! Really ought to give it a go, if you’re serious about him. It’ll _never_ last otherwise. Just some advice though, woman to woman: you’ll have to work on your subtlety first.” Clara froze. “Oh, and do try to remember that we’re not _human,_ poppet. A paltry dose of cyanide isn’t going to get the motor running. Not that I’m not flattered, of course. Glad to see you’ve got it in you after all. Means I can still trust my own judgment at least.” 

White-faced, all Clara could  do was gape at the Time Lady sitting across from her. When she finally managed to speak again, all she  was able to squeak out was “two doses”, and Missy  _really_ laughed at that. 

The minutes ticked by without either woman saying anything. Missy calmly continued sipping her tea, while Clara struggled to do the same. Finally, Missy put her empty cup neatly down on the table and gracefully stood up from her chair. She smoothed out her skirts, and looked down at Clara. “It’s been a hoot,  dear , but I really must  be off . The sedative in your tea should be kicking in  now , and then you’ll be no fun at all. But don’t get too lonely while I’m gone. After all, I’ll see you at work tomorrow!  But for now, adieu.” 

Clara’s eyes widened, her mouth fell open, all attempts at composure fleeing. “No. No, Missy, you couldn’t have...” But right on time, Clara could feel her thoughts fogging up, her head feeling fuzzy. How had she managed it? And when? She pushed herself away from the table clumsily. She had been so focused on getting through her drink without cracking to the fear she still felt every time she saw Missy, she hadn’t even noticed when her movements had started becoming harder to control, heavier, slower. Her chair fell to the floor behind her, and she had to lean on the table in front of her for support. She stumbled around the table, heading towards Missy, who had stepped back somewhat, but stopped to watch things play out. What was she hoping for at this point? She didn’t have a clue. The perfectly sensible fear she’d been holding close to herself the whole day had fallen away with her chair, and now her body felt disconnected from her brain, operating on some sick kind of instinct she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t just give up and let herself slump onto the table while she let the other woman leave, no, she had to _act_ somehow. One last, misguided attempt to control the uncontrollable and escape the inevitable, perhaps? She threw herself toward Missy, grabbing at her skirts as she fell forward. She knocked the taller woman off balance completely, and the two crumpled to the floor together. She had tears in her eyes as she struggled to get control of herself, swatting ineffectively at Missy below her, wishing her brain would work well enough for her to _say_ something, to keep her footing in this slippery battle of wits she had found herself playing with a near-immortal killer. Her movements became weaker and weaker until she felt herself sinking down, her eyes slowly blinking themselves shut. The last thing her brain registered before she lost consciousness was Missy’s face openly showing her surprise, and then she was gone. 

M issy awkwardly manipulated herself out from where Clara’s limp body had pinned her, being careful not to let her hit the floor too hard. “Oh  _my_ ,” she murmured to herself, “now that  _was_ interesting.” She fluffed her skirts out again, knocking the dust off of them as she got to her feet. She took a moment to study her handiwork  before bending down again. She had a soft smile on her face as she placed Clara’s arm over her own shoulder, lifting her up bridal style and carrying her  to the couch. She  lay her down gently  and brushed her hair out of her face. Finally, she left a soft kiss on Clara’s forehead before making her way out the door and down the stairs. ‘Maybe,’ she thought to herself as she whistled her way down the street, ‘this is going to be even more fun than I thought.’ She might even have gained a new understanding of the Doctor’s fondness for his little  _pets_ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to try and make this a weekly thing, seeing as I've accidentally uploaded both the first two chapters on respective Saturday nights. We'll see how well that works out, it's actually already been derailed a bit this week when my neighbour came over to share drinks with me, but it is still technically Saturday night so for now I think I'm winning.... even if I might have to give this chapter an extra edit after work tomorrow...


	4. Chapter 4

W hen Clara stirred again  it was almost evening, and it was with a hell of a headache. She lay dazed on the couch as she took stock of her situation: drugged in her own home, head pounding, stomach empty, day wasted. Whatever she’d been dosed with hadn’t messed  her memory though, or at least she didn’t  _think_ it had. She remembered Missy showing up in her flat, remembered her pathetic poisoning attempt, remembered talking about the Doctor. She thought she remembered, stupidly, trying to throw herself at Missy when she was feeling the effects of the drugs. What that had been meant to accomplish, she couldn’t exactly say. She was even less clear about how she’d ended up on the couch, rather than left flat on the floor or worse. She wondered if maybe she’d only imagined attacking Missy. Even she couldn’t be  _that_ stupid, could she? With nobody around to immediately disagree with her she decided that must’ve been the case. She had dragged her sorry self to the couch to collapse, and Missy had, what?  _Just left?_ Well, no point in trying to question  _her_ motives, there never had been. 

H er thoughts were  briefly  interrupted by her stomach, which wasn’t impressed  by her  recent  sedatives-for-breakfast diet.  As she slowly got to her feet she found she was still pretty wobbly. She  _really_ wasn’t feeling up to cooking anything at this point, but she thought she still had leftovers in the fridge she could grab. ‘ Just focus on the small mercies,’ she told herself as she entered the kitchen.  Clara was starting to realize she had a serious problem on her hands. As much as she had been suspicious of Missy’s motives, there was a part of her that had begun to think that because she  _hadn’t_ done anything more than making a nuisance of herself it meant that she  _wouldn’t_ , but that notion was out the door now. Obviously Missy was just trying to kill her again, albeit in a slow, roundabout, and presumably fun (if you were  _bananas_ ) manner. Which was a bit of a shame, she’d almost been  enjoying their conversation before. 

She had to remind herself that she  _had_ tried to poison the woman. She wasn’t exactly an innocent here. 

Innocent or not, what she needed right now, (at least after finishing her meal, and potentially a shower) was a new approach.  Never mind that she said that after every encounter she had with Missy, nothing was working. She couldn’t just keep  _reacting_ , she had to really start playing the game. Calling the Doctor wasn’t an option, because for one thing, he wasn’t answering,  and for another, it was just embarrassing. She was determined to get rid of Missy on her own, and she was refusing to continue letting her get to her.  And she only had until tomorrow to come up with how to do that.

Monday morning came too soon, and Clara spent an unheard-of amount of time getting ready for work. Doing her makeup intensely, picking out the perfect outfit. Armour, she was calling it. To make an impression. Couldn’t  be intimidated if you were dressed to kill. She realized briefly that Missy must operate on the same logic to an extent, dressing as she did for specific encounters,  wearing her clothes as more costume than convenience. It was obvious with her normal style, of course, but Clara noticed it everywhere she saw her. She decided she wouldn’t dwell for long on the subject,  and moved on to her hair. 

By the time she made it to school  there wasn’t much time left before classes started, which had also been part of her intention.  Making a statement was fine and all but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to running into Missy again.  She  did make it to her classroom without seeing Missy, but  unfortunately  that didn’t mean she was free of her presence.  It wasn’t long after she had started her lecture that she found herself interrupted from the centre of the room. 

“Miss,” called out a voice that was conspicuously _not_ attached to a raised hand, “do you have a date with the sub tonight?” Clara, caught off guard by the question, could barely choke out her denial. 

The first voice was  quickly  joined by a second one. “ Is that why you’re all dressed up today? You wanted to impress her?”

Before Clara could even open her mouth to address the second student a third one chimed in with a “where are you going, then?” and a fourth one helpfully added “does that mean you won’t be giving us homework?” Soon the whole classroom was chattering about Clara’s presumed evening plans as she struggled to regain control. 

Clara took a minute to regain her composure before raising her voice. “That’s enough! There’s no date, there’s nothing to talk about, now pay attention or you’ll be getting  _extra_ homework.” 

The chaos only got worse as the day wore on, with students gossiping and winding each other up, and everyone  _always_ wanting to see how far they could push a teacher when given half a chance. By the time the last class of the day came around, Clara was tempted to let them all loose early and damn the consequences.  She worried that would only add fuel to the fire though, so she continued to push forward with every intention of doing her job  _right_ .  An intention which held right up until she heard a familiar and long-awaited sound outside. She grabbed her jacket off her chair and called out to her students, “sorry, personal emergency, class is dismissed for the day,” practically running out the classroom door, through the hallways, and out to the source of the sound. 

“Doctor!” she yelled the minute he was within view of her. “Where have you _been?”_ She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. 

“Been a bit busy. That, and I caught wind of trouble at your little school again, didn’t want to scare whatever it was off so I thought I’d give subtle a go.”

“You don’t _do_ subtle, you _can’t_. And you could have just _asked_.”

“How could I expect you to know? Wait, are classes finished already? I thought I’d come in early.”

“ Er, not  _exactly_ . Not the point here! Of course I know what’s going on here! I work here! I tried  _calling_ you!”

“If you’re so clever then tell me, what is it that’s going on at your school?”

Clara had already been pushed all day long by her students,  all  _week_ long by Missy,  and now she had to deal with  _him_ acting like a pompous ass? Some days she hardly knew why she stayed with him. “Ugh, seriously? Just follow me, would you?”

The halls were mostly empty when they reached the building, but students were already starting to trickle out from various classrooms by the time they approached their destination. “Just give it a moment,” Clara said when they got to the door to Missy’s classroom, and soon enough the students were emptying out.  Clara stepped inside, checked to make sure their weren’t any stragglers, and waved the Doctor in behind her. 

M issy was the first one to react. She shook her head dramatically and whined, “Clara,  _dear_ , you brought  _him_ ? You’re absolutely no fun!” 

The Doctor, as always, was more to-the-point in his interactions. “I’ll deal with things from here Clara, you can wait out in the hall.”

“Excuse me, I can _what_? I’ve had to deal with _this_ -”

“Hey!”

“-for the last week while you’re off who knows where and now you’re telling me to _wait in the hall_?”

“Oh, he might be right, pet. Things could get... _messy_. Best let mummy and daddy work it all out.”

“You can’t _seriously_ expect me to just-” Clara looked from Missy to the Doctor, and then back to Missy, who winked at her. “Fine, whatever! I don’t want to be around either of you _anyway_!” She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t go far though, obediently waiting in the hallway more to see how things turned out then anything else. 

She didn’t have to wait for long. 

Missy came running out of the classroom and grabbed Clara’s hand as she passed, pulling her along  behind her. Her free hand was digging through her bag for something. The Doctor came running out after them, shouting. “Aha!” Missy exclaimed triumphantly as she pulled  out a device and pushed the button on it with the hand still holding Clara’s. 

The next thing Clara knew, the school hallway was disappearing, being replaced with dark skies. Suddenly her head was swimming and her legs were giving out, but her forward motion continued. Her hand  slipped from Missy’s and she tumbled face first into the dusty ground.  She twisted herself around until she was in a sitting position and glared up at her unexpected companion, who stood calmly, seemingly unaffected by their sudden displacement. “Bring me back!” Clara shouted angrily. “ _Now_ !”

“Sorry,” Missy sung, shrugging mockingly. “One way trip. Now you’re _really_ stuck with me.” Her looming face cracked into a grin, then split into laughter as Clara continued to glare up at her, fuming. 


End file.
